


The Fight

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [65]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: AU Tom Hiddleston - Freeform, Existing Relationship, F/M, Foreplay, Lovers Quarrel, Tom Hiddleston AU, argument, fight, red nose day tom - Freeform, red nose day tom hiddleston - Freeform, rnd!tom - Freeform, rnd!tom hiddleston - Freeform, tom hiddleston - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-28 15:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10127744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Tom and Carmen make time for dinner on Valentine's Day, and a stupid fight.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [O Captain! My Captain!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8583043) by [missdibley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley). 



**“When you love them they drive you crazy because they know they can.” (** **_Moonstruck_ ** **)**

* * *

 

Carmen tried not to notice every time Tom brushed the front of his jacket.

It was the left side, the one with a small interior pocket that could contain… something. A small something, but a something nonetheless. And, given how many times his hand returned to the spot, a significant something. But she chose to believe him when he explained he was just cleaning himself up over the course of their meal.

“Bread crumbs, Button,” explained Tom blithely. They were seated at a small round table in a dim corner of one of their favorite restaurants. To make his point, he showed her the chunk of still warm focaccia in his hand.

She turned her attention to her plate of tagliatelle. When he brushed his jacket again during the next course, she tilted her head.

“Are you alright?” Carmen peered at the salmon he had ordered, then up at his face.

Tom bit his lip and tried to look innocent. “Salt, love. Got some on my jacket when I was, you know, salting my food.”

She frowned. “Why would you be holding the salt shaker up that high anyway?”

“I saw a video of this Turkish bloke on the internet, and he has this very specific method…”

“Wait, are you talking about Salt Bae?”

“I guess so.” Tom took a bite of his fish and chewed slowly.

Carmen dropped it, deciding to just enjoy her veal chop, and the beautiful dining room, and the handsome if annoying man who sat across from her and acted as though he wasn’t hiding something. It wasn’t forgotten entirely, but the arrival of the next courses, as well as a strolling violinist who presented pink and red roses to the female guests, were welcome distractions.

It was when Carmen sat staring at her panna cotta, the dessert soft and creamy in the candlelight, that Tom cleared his throat to get her attention.

“Dude, can’t you see I’m having a moment here?” She smirked.

“Carmen, _please_. It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh?” She sat up straight. “Is that why the panna cotta is heart-shaped?” Taking his proffered hand, she cooed when he kissed her fingertips.

Carmen’s eyes were as wide and as dark as they had ever been as they took in the sight of Tom reaching into that pocket and retrieving a packet of red tissue paper. He slid it across the table.

“Here.” Tom smiled when she gleefully picked up the parcel, made a show of shaking it. When she carefully untied and then unwound the waxy red twine that bound it, his nostrils flared.

“Woman, could you be any slower with that?”

“Why?” Carmen looked up, her brow creased with mock concern. “Is it time sensitive? Will it burst into flames if I don’t go fast enough?”

“Very funny,” murmured Tom. “Open it, please.”

So she did, revealing a key that fit neatly in the palm of her hand.

“You got me a car?!” Carmen’s mouth hung open as she examined it closely, finding a car insignia on the black fob. “You got me a Jaguar?”

“Erm… not quite.” Tom looked sheepish. “I got you a key to my car.”

“Oh!” She looked at him, then at the key again. “You’re giving me your car?”

“Very funny.” Tom squinted. “Is something wrong?

Carmen shook her head. “It’s just… I haven’t driven since I moved here.”

“Well, I thought we could go for a few practice drives when you move in.”

“When I…” She set the key down. “When I move in?”

“Carmen, you said yourself the other day. Your lease is up at the end of March, and so I figured…”

“You _figured_ …”

“Yes,” said Tom brightly. “You move in, and I teach you how to drive my car.”

“Oh.”

Carmen felt her cheeks get warm, then her throat and the back of her neck.

“Are you alright? You look a bit flushed.”

“I’m not…” She huffed. “I think I’m feeling… not… great.”

“Here, love.” Tom gestured at the half-full glass of water next to her coffee cup. “Drink.”

Carmen picked up the glass and thought, just for a second, of throwing the water in his face. Instead, she glared at Tom over the top of the rim while she drank it slowly.

* * *

 

“You’re welcome, by the way,” said Tom.

They were at the Tube station around the corner from the restaurant, waiting for a train that according to the electronic display had been three minutes away for the last ten minutes. Though the restaurant was barely a mile away from home, and it was a pleasant night for a walk, Carmen insisted they take the train.

“What?” She looked up at him abruptly, confusion creasing her brow.

“You’re welcome.” He nodded at her. “For the key.”

“For the key,” she repeated.

“Yes.”

 _Is he doing this on purpose?_ Carmen wondered. _Is he being a moron just to annoy me?_ She sighed.

“You don’t look happy.”

“I am very happy,” Carmen pouted.

“You just hissed at me, darling.”

“I breathe weird!” She ignored the sharp look from a woman walking past with a bouquet of red roses. “I’m happy.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” insisted Carmen. “I love my key to your car that I never drive.”

Despite the noise of the station — escalators whirring in the background, the conversation of passing strangers, the hint of a breeze that came down the tracks — Tom couldn’t hear anything in that moment. He froze.

“Seriously?” Tom’s ears were bright red. “Are you pissed I didn’t actually buy you a car?”

“No!” Carmen could feel the heat rising again, prickling the skin on the back of her neck. A few feet away, an older man in a tweed overcoat coughed loudly before moving down the platform. The station felt stuffy, and the fluorescent lights were too bright in her eyes.

“Then what are you pissed about?” Tom stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

“No.”

“What no? No, you’re not pissed, or no, you won’t tell me?” Tom huffed.

“Just… no.” She shook her head. “Let’s not… forget I said.”

“Something is bothering you,” he said.

“Yeah, but it’s dumb,” admitted Carmen.

Tom ducked his head briefly. “So why not drop it then? Or even better why bring it up at all?”

“Just because it’s dumb doesn’t mean it’s not valid,” retorted Carmen.

“Are you shitting me?” Tom’s voice cracked, which made her chuckle. “Stop that.”

“Couldn’t help it.” She bit back another chuckle. “Your voice cracking like that.”

“No, I meant stop acting like a…”

“Like a what?”

“Like there isn’t something bothering you.” Tom leaned in. “Like something I did isn’t bothering you.”

Carmen returned his insistent look with glare of her own but said nothing.

“So what is it?”

“What do you mean it?”

“You still haven’t told me what _it_ is.”

“As if I had to tell you,” muttered Carmen.

Tom laughed, a short sharp bark. “Since when have you _ever_ denied yourself the opportunity to tell me exactly what it is I’ve done to displease you?”

Tom was right, but Carmen wasn’t about to tell him that. “But it’s so obvious.” She rolled her eyes.

“Obviously not,” he replied coldly.

Carmen didn’t like this. She felt dumb — why didn’t she just tell him — but that also meant she felt resentful for having to say anything at all. She was about to let him, and herself, off the hook when the electronic voice of the station klaxon interrupted them. It announced the arrival of the train that just now came rushing down the tracks, bringing with it such a wind that it blew her skirt up nearly to her waist.

They had only one stop to go, but Carmen insisted on a seat. Tom managed to get the seat opposite, but only after a few elderly passengers refused his entreaties to take it. As soon as the doors closed, Carmen closed her eyes for the short trip to their stop.

But the train remained still. Her reverie was broken by another announcement, this one stating that due to a delay at a station further down the line, their train would be held until further notice. Passengers groaned and grumbled, shifting as they set down packages or settled their babies. She could see Tom through the gaps between people, but she wasn’t about to resume their discussion. Instead Carmen watched him.

And he watched her back.

Chin propped on his fist, his eyes were now dark as he focused on her face. She ignored him but did not shy away from his inspection. _Maybe if he looks long enough_ , she thought, _he’ll get a goddamn clue_.

Across the aisle, Tom was not inclined to relax into a more casual posture. _Why was she being so obstinate? Why did she insist on being the brat?_ For a brief moment, he wondered if this was merely foreplay. But she had tells, Carmen did, when it came to picking a fight as a prelude to sex. One of which was wearing thigh-high stockings because she knew he enjoyed them so much. But he had noticed, when her skirt flipped up earlier, that her stockings were of the boring, non-sexy kind that went all the way up to her waist. She had met him for supper right after leaving work, so probably didn’t have time to change out of her suit into something romantic for the holiday.

So he stewed. And the longer he did, the weaker Carmen’s resolve became. For when he got lost in thought, knowing Tom was intent on her, she couldn’t help but squirm. From the attention, sure, but also from arousal. Something about the set of his jaw, shoulders squared against the world, the steely look in his crisp blue eyes. Tom never looked more desirable to her than when he was so single minded about figuring out her weird, stubborn, occasionally angry, frequently horny self.

Something changed in his demeanor when the train started moving. Not just because they were finally heading home, but the light came back in his eyes. There was a shift and Carmen could tell he’d finally figured it out. The left corner of his mouth tugged up in a crooked grin, and Tom shook his head. Before she could return his grin with one of her own, before she could push through the people and reconcile, the train stopped. The doors opened, and they were free to depart.

There were too many people in the way for him to escort her off the train, so Tom waited on the platform for Carmen to join him. Once she stood facing him, he slipped his hand around to the small of her back, and steered her out to the street. Up an escalator, he standing behind her. Then in the lift to the stationhouse, his hand still resting gently on her body.

Out on the street, Carmen cleared her throat and reached for his hand as they walked in the direction of his house. “So what it was, you see…”

“No.” Tom cut her off, keeping his hand in place as she steered her along. When she stumbled over an uneven paving stone, he used his free hand to steady her.

“But it’s just you should have asked…” insisted Carmen.

Before she could finish, Tom grabbed her elbow and pulled Carmen into the doorway of a bookstore that was closed for the night. The awning was rolled back, but they were still concealed from the streetlights, neighbors marching past, and vehicles speeding along. So nobody saw or heard Tom when he shoved her against the doorjamb. Now she was pinned, her arms held down by his hands and his mouth on hers. His breath was hot and wet as he spoke between biting kisses.

“I’m not asking, Carmen,” he said quietly. “I’m telling you.”

Mouth hanging open, she panted as she considered her beloved’s face. Tom’s pupils were dilated, and his nostrils flared. Frustration that, when considering his hard cock that she could feel, even under her suit and overcoat, pressed against her belly, had aroused her so much that she wondered if Tom could smell the desire from between her legs.

“But…” she started and again he kissed her, nipping at her bottom lip. She wiggled, wanting friction from him but not release. Not yet. She moaned.

“What was that?” His voice was urgent.

“That was… I just…” She breathed deeply. “What was it you wanted to tell me?”

Carmen peered up at him.

[“Captain.”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8583043)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dinner on Valentine's Day, Tom and Carmen head home.

_That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man,_  
_If with his tongue he cannot win a woman._

William Shakespeare, The Two Gentlemen of Verona (III, i, 104-105)

* * *

“Tom?”

Carmen spoke in a hush, touching his cheek with her fingertips. Caught in the doorway of a bookstore somewhere between the tube station they had just exited and home, Tom knelt before her. They were just a little tipsy still, feeling impetuous and aroused, on the verge of doing something dangerous and foolish.

Which, Valentine’s Day or not, was typical for them

He looked up, meeting her tentative smile with one of his own. His eyes twinkled, having caught what little light they could capture from the streetlights nearby.

“Are you alright?” She asked breathlessly.

“Let’s go,” interrupted Tom, getting to his feet. “I’ve got something I’d like to show you.” Offering Carmen his hand, they took a moment to compose themselves before continuing the walk towards home.

 _“I’m not asking, Carmen. I’m telling you.”_ That was what he had said to her, just as she was about to explain that he should have asked her to move in. She wasn’t worried that he was taking her for granted. _It’s just nice to be asked,_ she thought when they got to his gate, but said nothing until they got to the front door.

“This is a strange way to apologize, Tom.” She studied his hands as he got out his keys.

Tom turned to her, lips quirked slightly in a small grin. “Carmen.”

“What?”

He shook his head. “I am not apologizing.”

“Is it because you don’t know what…? Because you know I’ll tell you.”

“I don’t believe there’s anything I should apologize for.”

“Excuse me?” Carmen narrowed her eyes at him.

“In fact,” he said evenly, “you should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you for what?”

Tom sighed with mock impatience. “For simply reminding you of what you already know.”

“What would that be?” She practically spat, for her impatience was entirely real. “That you’re a pompous, presumptuous prig with the self-awareness of a teaspoon?”

“Well, no, but thank you for that poetic assessment,” he drawled in reply.

Carmen threw up her hands. “Then what?”

Tom opened the door. He stooped over to kiss Carmen on the forehead.

“I don’t have to ask you move in with me,” he explained. “You’re already home.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. For here we are. Together.” He looked pleased, smiling wide as he waited for her to enter the house. Once inside, the door shut behind them, Tom crowded her in. He nuzzled her cheek and whispered.

“You told me once that I would always be welcome in your home, wherever you were. For you were… you _are_ my home. You are mine.” When he felt her nod, he hugged her.

“So, you see, my home is yours. Because, my beloved, I am your home, too. I am yours.”

Carmen drew her head up, opening her eyes so she could look into his. Smiling, she permitted him to remove her coat off. He pushed it to the floor where, kneeling, he eased off her shoes.

Throughout the process, he dropped kisses wherever a new spot of flesh was exposed. The collarbone when he undid a few buttons of her blouse, her wrist when her coat was disposed off, the knee when he rolled off her tights. His own coat and shoes soon formed a little heap, and then he was walking her over to the far wall. Once there, her back pressed against the shelves and he facing her, Tom took her hands and clasped them behind his back. His own hands cupped Carmen’s face, studying her in the dim glow of a string of fairy lights that hung just over their heads.

“Unlike the very modern library [ where we first met ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4467890) a little over two years ago, the library of this little house does not come equipped with an automated storage and retrieval system,” Tom explained.

“Do you have any plans to install such a system, Mr. Hiddleston?” Carmen sighed when he sucked briefly at the base of her neck. “Little robotic arms flinging volumes at our heads whenever we require?”

‘No, my darling, I’m sorry but if you want a book, you’ll have to get it yourself.”

“How primitive. Oof!” Carmen squealed when he nipped at her throat.

“Hush,” Tom muttered into her neck. “Don’t interrupt me while I’m giving a tour.”

“Tour, shmour,” retorted Carmen, “you just like hearing yourself talk.”

“Silence, madame, or there will be no post-tour shagging.”

“Harumph.” She smirked up at him. “As if you could after that _massive_ Italian dinner we just had.”

"Sfida accettata!" Tom cried.

“You just said ‘Challenge accepted!’ in Italian, didn’t you?” Carmen said accusingly.

He waggled his eyebrows. “Would you have preferred Latin then?”

She snorted, laughing when he kissed her. “Nerd!”

They stood there, moving against each other in the dark. Tom’s hands tugged at the waistband of her skirt, squeezing her hips. Carmen stroked him over the fabric of his trousers, cooing in appreciation at the increasing tightness between his legs.

“Button,” he moaned. _“Carmen.”_

“Yes?” she murmured. “This, uh… dry humping. Not that I’m complaining but…” She bit her lip. “Is this part of the tour?” She squeaked when he dug his nails into her ass and jerked her forward. “I’m, ah, well acquainted with _him.”_

“He’s got something he’d like to show you…” Tom managed, somehow, to back away from the shelf, leading Carmen whose hands were now clasped in his. Settling on the couch, he smiled when she knelt between his legs and began to unzip him. “No. No no. I need you up here.”

His eyes widened when she pushed herself up to straddle him, as the movement caused her breasts to strain against then open blouse. Tom pushed her back, pushed up the cups of her bra, and sucked at one breast while his hand kneaded the other. Carmen braced herself, planting her hands on his thighs behind her so she could arch into him.

“Tom, oh god… oh…” If Carmen had been feeling sluggish or even sleepy after dinner, the stimulation of his touch seemed to make it go away. When his hand left her breast and found her clit, fumbling under her skirt so he could trace the same delicious circles his tongue drew upon her skin, she cursed him. “You motherfucker… shit, Tom… Tom!”

“As I was saying,” he replied. “There may not be a robotic system for retrieving books, and the kitchen may need some work, but we’ll get by. Come up, love.” Tom helped Carmen sit back up, snuggling into her when she embraced him around the neck. “We have a few modern conveniences — dishwasher, laundry — but most needs, as you already know, must be handled…”

Tom wiggled under her, finding the room to undo his own fly and free his cock. Its head brushed against the soaked cotton strip of her knickers, and he grunted, a strange sort of half laugh. He dropped his head back, prompting Carmen to raise her head. He looked at her face, flushed and dewy in the dim light, as he guided himself into her. “Some needs can only be taken care of by yours truly.”

Carmen nodded, drew him close, and kissed him. Softly at first, breathing in him while his cock twitched inside her. Trailing kisses from his lips, to his cheek and along his jaw to his ear, she listened to him.

She listened to the way he breathed, slowly and with less effort than she would have guessed. She was heavier than him, sure, but he was stronger. Arms wrapped around her, again he dug his nails into her warm flesh so he could move her, move them, the way they liked.

“My shirt…” Tom whispered, releasing his hold on her briefly so she could take care of him. Her hands moved quickly they ripped the shirt open then tugged it off. Buttons disappeared into the couch cushions, a couple even got stuck between their bodies, and then her shirt was off and finally her bra so they could just feel themselves. Listen to each other. Taste. See.

Carmen rocked, ever so slightly. Tom chuckled, and thrust up. They gasped.

“You’re so wet,” he breathed.

“Must be all the water I… hey!” Carmen squealed when he snapped his hips. “I thought we were taking this sloooooooooow.” She shuddered, for Tom had added a swivel to his movements.

“Yes… yes but…” He clenched his jaw. “Impatient, love.”

“I thought you were going to mellow with old age,” said Carmen, laughing.

“I don’t see that getting older has stopped you…” Tom managed to cackle before she slapped him gently across the cheek.

“You love that I’m older than you. Admit it.” Carmen hummed with pleasure. “This dried up, non famous, non fabulous, fat old…”

“Minx.” Tom growled, drawing her in closer so he could whisper the words almost into her mouth between nips at her swollen bottom lip. “Maddening. Hilarious. Wild. Tight jumper wearing…”

Carmen couldn’t take it anymore. His cock, hard and big inside her, moving faster and deeper. Tom’s voice, crisp and low and deep with the tiniest twang, speaking to her. Telling her what he loved about her strung together in one impossibly long word before losing the ability to talk. He had been enunciating things that she already knew to be true, but coming from him it was revelatory and she felt like she was falling for him all again.

For a thirty six year old man he appeared to her to be so ardent, not unlike a boy with his first love. Running his hands over her generous belly, smiling when his bright blue eyes found her very dark brown ones. Tom gave Carmen many reasons and many occasions to poke fun at him, but his obvious delight in her body was not one of them. She had no choice but to relax into him, give him the full weight of her straddling his lap. Let him be the one to bring her pleasure, and love.

And an orgasm. Obviously.

To that end, Tom fingered her clit, hand cramping between them even while he continued to move his hips. He found her breast again with his mouth, raking his teeth across the hardened tip. Carmen’s hands gripped his hair tightly, she held on as best she could until inevitably she same, his name the only sound she could manage before collapsing against him.

She shrieked when he came, then laughed when he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her roughly.

“Baby.” She sounded dreamy. “Oh my Tom.”

“Hmm?” He cuddled her.

“I love you,” she said.

Tom looked up, pushing away a few damp strands of black hair so he could look at her face properly. “I love you, too.”

“I love you,” Carmen repeated, “But if you don’t let me get up, I’m going to get, well…” She peeked down at their sweaty bodies. “To be blunt, I’m going to leak, you know, _us_ all over your trousers.”

Tom reddened, which made her giggle. “That’s fairly graphic.”

“But maybe just a little romantic?” She mused. “Which is pretty us, don’t you think? Graphic but romantic?”

Tom nodded. “Beautifully put, Button.” He hugged her, burying his face in her hair.

* * *

While Carmen took their clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket, Tom started the shower. Standing under the spray, he didn’t speak while he busied himself washing her hair and then his. Tickling her with a shower pouf doused with her favorite liquid soap. Carmen purred her approval when he gently massaged facial cleanser into her cheeks, swiped it gently across her forehead and around her neck.

Dressed almost identically in ancient blue tee shirts and black underpants, Tom tried to settle down for sleep. He had a busy few weeks ahead. Graham Norton the next day, Los Angeles for Kong press days, then back home for barely a day before flying to Milan. After that it was London but by then the premieres for Kong would begin, and that would take him across the globe. It would be weeks before he was home again.

“I wish I could go with you,” said Carmen, interrupting his reverie. She peered at him from her spot, snuggled against his side.

“I wish you could, too.” Tom kissed her forehead. “It was nice last year, when you were able to fly out to see me.”

She nodded. “It really was, but the exchange doesn’t want to extend itself. First with Brexit, and now with this merger.”

“That’s still going on?” Tom looked thoughtful. “What happens if PACE and this other group combine?”

“Good question.” Carmen stared at the ceiling. “They’re calling it a merger, but I think it’s more of a takeover.”

“Are you worried? About your job?”

“No,” admitted Carmen. “I’m not, but it’s not like they’d need two people to do what I do.”

“You know, Button, I’d take care of you.” Tom swallowed. “I will.”

“I know,” she whispered. “Thank you, love.”

“It would be my privilege, Carmen.”

“And it would be mine, if it were you. Although.” Carmen looked mischievous. “I don’t think you’d last very long in my little apartment.”

“What?” Tom scoffed. “Your flat is perfectly adequate.”

 _“Perfectly adequate?”_ Carmen mimicked him. “That may be so but where would we put your books? All of your tea?” She gasped in mock horror. “Your hair gel?!”

“Carmen!” Tom began to tickle her. “Now you’ve done it!”

“Oh ho ho ho!” Carmen fought back, “Not the hair care products! God save the coif!”

“Quiet!” He pinned her under the duvet, dipping his head so he could leave sloppy wet kisses on her neck. “Be good, or you won’t get your present!”

“Present?” She wiggled away, sitting up and clapping her hands in delight. “You got me a present?”

“Did you really think the only gift I got you was dinner?” Tom looked mildly offended as he reached for the nightstand, taking out a small pink box from the drawer. He tried not to look surprised when Carmen snatched it away from him.

“Well, no.” Carmen pried the lid off, looking up at him before she unfolded the tissue within. “There was the fucking, too.” She ducked when Tom swiped at her with a pillow.

Tom held his breath, as he was not able to see the expression on her face as she withdrew her gift. Carmen dropped the box, examining the small object as it sat in her cupped palm. He was relieved when she looked up, her eyes wet with tears.

“Put it on me,” she said urgently before dropping it in his hand. “Please, Tom.”

He obliged her, taking the thin chain, undoing the clasp, then closing it around her neck. He brushed his fingers over the charm, a tiny sterling button, that now rested in the hollow of her throat. She closed her hands around his, bringing it up to her lips to kiss.

“I love it,” she whispered into his ear when she hugged him. “I love it. I love you. Thank you.”

“Carmen?”

“Yeah?”

Tom squeezed his eyes shut, sniffed, then kissed the side of her neck. “I love you.”


End file.
